


Comfort Food

by bigficenergy



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Comfort as promised in the title, Disordered Eating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-11-27 17:17:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18197087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigficenergy/pseuds/bigficenergy
Summary: David's shame-based eating habits and the actual love of food that they cover up tend to go unnoticed.Patrick notices.





	1. Shame Eating

It’s a disastrous shipment day at Rose Apothecary.

The store had been too busy for David and Patrick to finish checking in and stocking yesterday’s shipments. Then, one of today’s shipments had somehow been doubled by mistake, and another shipment that wasn’t due until the end of the week arrived early. And of course, it happens to be a day of high foot traffic in the shop.

Normally all this business would be great. It _is_ great. It just means that the register is surrounded by a fortress of boxes that is starting to spill out onto the sales floor, forcing customers to step awkwardly around them. Eventually, David is unable to stand it anymore and disappears into the stockroom with one of the larger boxes, leaving Patrick to ring up a line of shoppers.

When there is finally a break in the stream of customers, Patrick realizes that David never came back for more of the boxes, or to resume helping him. He heads into the stockroom, unsure about whether he should be frustrated with David or worried about him.

“Hey where’d you, go?”

Patrick stops, not having expected what he’s found. David is standing over a stack of boxes, which he is using as a table for this lunch leftovers. They’d closed the store and gone to lunch together earlier, so that neither of them would be left to deal with today’s onslaught of customers alone. Patrick ordered a burger and fries, hoping it would hold him over until closing time. David ordered a club sandwich and barely touched it.

Now, David seems to have a large portion of the sandwich in his mouth. He looks at Patrick, wide-eyed and guilty, like he’s been caught doing something bad.

“Everything okay?” Patrick asks.

David squeezes his eyes shut and nods as he works on chewing his food. He brings the back of his hand up to block his mouth and mutters, “Fuck,” through the mouthful. When he finally swallows, he says, “I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

“See you eating? I’ve seen you eat. But why didn’t you eat at the cafe if you were this hungry?”

“Shame-eating,” David clarifies. “It’s different. And it’s far too early in our relationship for you to have seen me doing it.”

Patrick looks perplexed and a little sad. It’s the same look he gets when David casually mentions a shitty ex or a former frenemy. He joins David at his makeshift box-table.

“I know things are stressful this week, but you need to eat, and you don’t need to hide how you eat from me. And if this is how you’re gonna eat, I’d honestly _prefer_ if you did it with me around. I know the Heimlich maneuver.”

David glares. “See, it’s comments like that that force me to stuff my face in a dark corner. Or a…” He gestures at the room around them. “...dusty stockroom.”

Patrick looks up at him, his expression now soft, but serious. “David, do I need to be concerned?”

Looking away for a moment, David sighs. “That’s very sweet of you, but I’m going to tell you what I told my high school guidance counselor: I’m not _not_ eating. I’m just doing it on my own terms.”

“Okay,” Patrick says softly. “Well, why don’t you sit down and finish your lunch while it’s quiet out there. I’ll work on checking in some of the boxes, and you can come help me when you’re done.”

“You’re don’t need to be patronizing,” David says quietly.

“I’m not trying to be. Just… take your time. Come out when you’re ready. We’ll get everything done, I promise.”

Patrick kisses him on the cheek and goes back out to the sales floor. When he hears the shuffle of David taking his takeout box and plopping himself into one of the chairs they use for store events, he smiles to himself.

They stay late to finish checking in the shipments. When they’re finally done, Patrick gathers David up in his arms. Instead of wrapping his arms around Patrick’s neck like he normally would, David goes stiff and grimaces.

“Don’t squeeze me too hard,” David warns. “My stomach is not particularly happy with the choices I made today, and our relationship is not ready for what might happen if you squeeze me too hard right now.”

Patrick loosens his grip and rubs David’s back gently. “God forbid you have a bodily function around the person you’re dating.”

“I hope for both our sakes that she does forbid it,” David says, pointing upward on the word “she”, and Patrick can’t help smiling and leaning up to kiss him at that.

When the pull apart again, Patrick says softly, “Come over tonight.”

David tilts his head back, closing his eyes and pouting before looking back at Patrick. “I don’t know how else to explain to you that I’m going to be very bad company tonight.”

“Ray has an extensive stock of really good teas. I can make you a nice cup of ginger or peppermint and rub your belly for you.”

They haven’t been seeing each other all that long, but it’s been long enough that they’ve said an obscene thing or two to each other in the throes of a surreptitious make-out session. Somehow, though, Patrick’s offer feels far more intimate than any of that, and David might actually be blushing. He clears his throat and looks away shyly.

“I guess I could be into that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone's hanging in there after the season six announcement. I am, like most of you I'm guessing, very glad they're ending on their terms. But it was my birthday (yes, really, insert offended David "it's my birthday" gif here) and basically waking up to that announcement was A Lot. Guess it's fitting, since birthdays in Schitt's Creek are always so damn emotional.
> 
> Anyway, I'm gonna try spacing out posting these chapters a bit to see how that goes. I'm still working on the last chapter, but it is shaping up to be E-rated, so I will be adjusting the rating accordingly. I've been having such a good time writing this one, so I hope you enjoy it!


	2. Hors D'oeuvres

It comes up again the first time David gets properly drunk in front of Patrick.

Brenda, who supplies their bestselling moisturizer and several other popular products, invites them to a mixer at her house for all the nearby retailers and fellow estheticians that she works with. David prefers having exclusivity on the products they pick up, but he's such a fan of Brenda's stuff himself, he was uncharacteristically willing to work a deal out with her that benefitted both of them.

They've found that it's helpful to approach certain vendors together, so that Patrick's even temperament can balance out David's tendency to come off a bit haughty. David requires no such help with Brenda. They get along _fabulously_. One might think they were hosting the party together, given the way they’ve stayed at each other's side all evening, laughing and topping off each other’s wine glasses.

It's fine by Patrick. He's driving, so he’s had his one glass of wine, and he’s always been pretty comfortable meeting new people on his own. And if letting David schmooze with Brenda all night means he gets to look up and see David laughing with a rare, unabashed, ear-to-ear smile on his face, he feels it's very much worth it.

At one point he looks up and David is no longer with Brenda, or anywhere that he can see. He figures he went to the bathroom and goes back to his conversation.

The group he’s chatting with keeps him engrossed for a while, and when they all finally disperse to refill their glasses with wine and their plates with finger foods, David is still nowhere to be seen. Patrick peeks into the kitchen first, setting his empty glass down on the counter before heading down the hall to check the bathroom.

The bathroom door is closed and the light is on, so Patrick knocks.

“Occupied!” comes the muffled, slightly slurred response.

“David? You okay?”

“M’fine, I’m--” David suddenly burps, cutting himself off.

It startles a laugh out of Patrick, who opens the door part way and peeks in. David is sitting on the closed toilet seat, one hand holding a plate of food on his lap, the other hand over his mouth, which he lowers quickly.

“That wasn’ me,” David says, consonants coming out soft or not at all.

“No?” Patrick joins him in the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. “Who was it then?”

David looks around the bathroom as if there are others around them he could blame. “I d- I dunno.”

Patrick leans against the counter, crossing his arms and smiling softly at David. “Is this more of the eating thing? The, uh…”

David closes his eyes and nods. “Mhm, the shame-eating. Is my go-to when I’m drunk.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Could be worse,” David continues. “Like Stevie. She makes out with people when she’s drunk. I don’ do _that_.”

“Oh?” Patrick asks, stepping closer to David. “Is that how you two…”

“Mmmm… there was some beer? Maybe?” David says, his expression pinched as he tries to dig the memory out of his tipsy haze. “But that was mostly ‘cause of the jumbo freezer bag of pot.”

Any inkling of jealousy that had begun to spark in Patrick quickly subsides as he watches David burst into giggles at the memory. Besides, Patrick likes Stevie a lot. Even if she does pilfer things from the store, she’s a riot, and she and David are obviously very important to each other. He’s also pretty sure that Stevie’s certainty about him early on had contributed to giving David the confidence to make the first move, which he would never stop being grateful for.

Patrick kneels down in front of David but before he can say anything, David asks, “Whadda you do when you’re boozy, hmm?”

“Me? Oh, I don’t know. I might sing a little, or get competitive if it’s a party with games or something. Mostly I just get kind of sleepy.”

David tips his head back and makes a face like he just can’t stand how cute Patrick is. “You are just the sweetest little thing. How’d you get so sweet?” He taps him on the nose with a finger, and Patrick wonders which Rose sibling that move originated from.

“Well, I didn't want to tell you this yet,” Patrick says. “But I was actually made from gingerbread and brought to life by Christmas magic.”

A sober David would have at least rolled his eyes. Drunk David just goes with it. “Better look out or I might eat you up.”

He leans down and kisses Patrick, who can’t stop himself from pulling away at the pungent smell of David’s breath.

“I take it you were a fan of those garlic prawns?” Patrick asks with a chuckle.

David suddenly gets very serious. “How did you know? I came in here so no one would see me eat, like, all of them.”

Patrick takes David’s free hand and holds it in front of David’s mouth. “Breathe out.”

David looks very confused, but he does and immediately recoils. “Oh my god!” He stands and makes an attempt at setting his plate on the counter, but Patrick has to catch it as it nearly slides off the corner.

“There’s gotta be some mouthwash in here or something,” David says, looking back and forth between the cabinets and drawers.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Patrick insists. “Let’s not be the people who go through the host’s cabinets.”

“Okay, I already did that,” David says. “Sooo, I’m already those people. I’m drunk a little though, and I can’t remember if I saw mouthwash.”

Patrick places his hands on David’s shoulders and turns him towards him. “You’ll be fine. But it’s getting late and I think maybe it’s time we headed out. What do you say?”

David doesn’t say anything. His eyes drift over to his plate of food on the counter.

“You want to finish eating before we go?”

“Brenda’s hors d'oeuvres are just _really_ good.”

“Can you do it out there so we can let people use the bathroom?”

David pouts.

Patrick puts his hands on his hips, but he can’t hide his amusement. “David…”

“Okay, I don’t know if you noticed, but there are a lot of very put-together, nice ladies out there,” David says, gesturing at the door. “And most of them seem to like me. They can’t know that I’m… that I’m not… like… dainty like them.”

Even though David immediately cringes at his own word choice, Patrick absolutely cannot let it go. He smiles wide.

“ _Dainty_?”

“You know what I’m trying to say!” David says, frustrated. “I clicked with these people and I need to maintain whatever’s working, but I dunno know how to be constantly ‘on’ while also fashionably ignoring the buffet table. So if I have to sneak into Poppy Delevingne's bathroom to toss back a few canapes so I don't pass out from social exhaustion _and_ hunger, that's what I have to do.”

Patrick doesn't need to know the names David drops to figure out when they've veered into his past and the deep-seated insecurities born from his bizarre, privileged life. It's tricky territory. Patrick has to curb his first instinct, which is to tell David he's gorgeous and talented and wonderful and has no reason to feel the way he does. It's not that simple, and Patrick understands that.

David's filter is also compromised thanks to the copious amounts of wine, and Patrick doesn't want him to regret anything he's disclosed later. So he considers his words carefully, placing his hands back on David’s shoulders, squeezing them gently.

“Well I don't know who Poppy whoever is, but I can tell you that that’s very much not her party out there,” he says. “First of all, I think most of the women here would object to being described as ‘dainty’.”

“Words are hard right now,” David grumbles, toying with his rings so he doesn’t have to look directly at Patrick.

“Second,” Patrick continues, “You’re a hit out there. You’re charming and funny and you’re well-versed in this business. That’s all you just being you. No one’s gonna care if you eat half of the shrimp plate. In fact, I’m pretty sure the other half is in Maryanne’s purse right now.”

David looks off to his side and presses his lips together, but the corner of his mouth quirks up. That makes Patrick relax a little.

“And do you really think Brenda cares?” he asks, smiling. “Look at you. She drank you under the table.”

David nods. “I’m not sure really how she’s still functioning.”

“Everyone’s just having a good time. I can tell you honestly, you’re a big part of that. And third…” Patrick rubs his hands soothingly up and down David’s upper arms. “I hate to break this to you, David, but there’s just nothing dainty about you.”

David narrows his eyes at Patrick. “It sounds like you mean that as a compliment, but I’m just not quite getting there.”

“I _like_ that about you,” Patrick says, soft but firm, looking up at David with his big, brown eyes. “I like your big personality. I like that you make a fashion statement every single day. I like that you’re taller than me.” He turns them so that he’s sandwiched between the counter at his back and David at his front. “I like your broad shoulders,” he says, squeezing them again and sliding his hands down. He takes David’s hands and guides them to his waist. “I like your big hands. Especially when they’re on me.”

David squeezes where his hands have been placed and presses up against Patrick. Words are suddenly becoming difficult for Patrick, too.

“And…” Patrick says with a shaky breath, his arms wrapping around David’s neck as he tilts his hips up into David’s. “And I like… your big…”

David exhales sharply and pulls away frantically, missing Patrick wincing at the smell of his breath again.

“We should go now, right now,” David says.

Patrick smiles triumphantly, biting his lip. “What about your food?”

“Well if nobody cares, like you said, then I might as well just take it to go!” David says, as if doing such a thing would be in incredibly poor taste.

Just then, there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

“Now now boys, we’re all big fans of the two of you, but I’m gonna have to ask that you make yourselves decent and vacate the bathroom,” Brenda teases through the door.

“Sorry Brenda, nothing like that,” Patrick calls back. “David’s outfits are complicated, sometimes he needs help in the bathroom.”

David shoots him a death glare. Brenda just laughs with sheer, tipsy delight.

“You guys are too much!” she chirps. “Okay, but I better see you out here in the next few minutes. We’re opening another bottle of the good stuff!”

Her footsteps retreat back out to the party and David looks back to Patrick.

“I once partied with Lindsay Lohan in LA,” he says. “And yet I’m worried that it’s here in Elm Ridge after several bottles of _fruit wine_ that I’m going to need my stomach pumped.”

Patrick picks up David’s plate and gently steers him toward the door. “Come on, let’s go.”

While David fumbles with the lock and the door knob, Patrick eats one of the remaining prawns off the plate. David doesn’t notice until he’s gotten the door open and turns to see Patrick chewing.

“Oh, we’re just…” David clears his throat, gently taking the plate back from Patrick. “We’re just gonna make you your own plate, mkay?”

“Mm, right, sorry,” Patrick says, stifling a laugh.

David walks out ahead of him, already continuing to eat from the plate and saying with his mouth full, “Mhm, yeah, thanks so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments on the first chapter (and wished me a happy birthday)! You're all so kind. I'm super glad I decided to roll this one out a little more gradually, because some of the comments inspired me to beef up sections of this chapter a little more. Gotta say again, I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you have fun reading it!
> 
> Also, I just want to share that my favorite method of writing drunk David is to go back and switch the order of his words around a little, as inspired by "Two please drinks!" which cracks me up every time.


	3. Pizza

After the incident with the shoplifting teens, Patrick insists that they take full inventory of the store. David is less than thrilled by the prospect of coming in early or staying late so they don’t have to close during business hours to complete the task, but eventually, he decides that staying late is the lesser of two evils.

They grab dinner at the cafe after closing the store for the day. When they’re done, they head back to the store for a long night of counting.

It takes hours, but in the end, they’re not missing all that much product.

“Thanks to Alexis,” Patrick says, as he shuts down the computer at the register.

“Mm, yeah, I’ll be sure to send her a fruit basket,” David says, sarcastically.

Normally David would probably be scrolling through Twitter on his phone while Patrick wrapped up, but he’d forgotten his charger at the motel and his phone was dead. So instead, he’s sitting on one of the tables, swinging his feet and doodling absently on a product list on a clipboard.

Patrick comes out from behind the counter to join him. He steps between his legs and rests his hands on David’s knees. When David looks up, he kisses him. David smiles into the kiss, and when they part, he rests his head on Patrick’s shoulder. Patrick kisses the top of his head, then looks down, noticing David’s doodles.

“Wow. I knew you worked with artists, but I had no idea you were one yourself.”

“Mm, I know you're making fun of me,” David says, without lifting his head. “But with enough money to pay off the right marketing team, I could be showing in galleries by next week.”

Patrick chuckles and tilts the clipboard up to get a better look.

The drawings start as shapes and swirls, then turn into specific things: a perfume they just started carrying that comes in a cylindrical bottle; a patterned sweater David has had his eye on for himself; a baseball (or David’s estimation of one), presumably because Patrick had told him he was thinking of joining one of the local teams next season; and a slice of pizza with cartoonishly gooey cheese.

“Oof, pizza sounds really good right now,” says Patrick.

“Pizza _always_ sounds good,” David says, snuggling in further against Patrick's shoulder.

Patrick thinks for a second and then pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Tony’s is still open and they’ll deliver here. I’m thinking we earned a second dinner. What do you want?”

He feels David perk up for a second, but then he shrugs and mumbles, “I don’t know, whatever.”

“Anchovies and brussels sprouts, got it.”

David sits up. “Ughhh, no, get the margherita with --”

“-- arugula and prosciutto,” Patrick finishes in unison with him.

He’s biting back a smile, but David’s eyes are unmistakably alight with joy.

“I know you think you’re the only person in this relationship with taste,” Patrick says, dialing Tony’s, “but not even I can mess this one up.”

Patrick turns and walks a few steps away to place the order, unaware of how relieved David is that he isn’t watching his usually contained smirk threatening to burst into a full-blown grin… over pizza. Over Patrick knowing his pizza order. Over Patrick ordering them pizza.

Patrick asks for disposable plates and cutlery as he’s wrapping up the order. When he’s done, he turns back to David.

“It’s gonna be a while, but they’re throwing in some of those cheesy breadsticks, so I’d say it’ll be worth the wait,” Patrick says, returning to stand in the space between David’s legs and giving him a kiss.

“You didn’t have to ask for cutlery,” David says.

Patrick tilts his head curiously. “I just thought… that one time that we went into Tony’s, you ate your slice with a knife and fork.”

David nods. “Force of habit. As you know, somewhere along the way, I developed the need to… control how I eat in front of people.”

Patrick squeezes David’s knees where his hands are resting. “And as you know, you don’t need to do that with me.”

“I know,” David says. “Which is why you didn’t need to ask for cutlery.”

A smile spreads over Patrick’s face. “Are you saying you feel comfortable eating pizza in front of me? With you hands?”

David rolls his eyes.

“Gosh, David,” Patrick says. “This is a big step for us.”

“Okay, you’re ruining a very sweet moment,” David says with a half-hearted glare.

“Forgive me?” Patrick asks. David doesn’t answer, opting to lean up and kiss him instead.

“You do have taste, by the way,” David says when he pulls away.

Patrick looks at him a little suspiciously. “You mean that?”

“Obviously. Look at who you’re dating.”

“Wow, David.”

David grins and kisses him again and again, eventually setting the clipboard aside, standing, and walking Patrick back toward the stockroom.

“How long til the pizza gets here?” David asks between kisses.

“At least 25 minutes,” says Patrick, already a little breathless.

David hooks a finger in one of Patrick’s belt loops, continuing to steer them. “Hmm, should we set a timer? You’ll have to do it, my phone’s dead.”

“Nah, you’ll just need to keep it down so we can hear the delivery guy knock,” Patrick teases.

David gasps. “ _Me_? People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, and people in rented rooms shouldn’t shout my name to the high heavens.”

Once they're off the sales floor and away from the windows, Patrick tugs David’s sweater off.

“You love it,” Patrick says, kissing David as they both fumble to undo the buttons of his shirt. He can feel David grin against his mouth.

“Fuck yes I do.”

(David ends up being mildly scandalized and a little delighted when, about 25 minutes later, Patrick refastens his jeans without buckling his belt and throws on just his undershirt to receive their pizza from the Tony’s delivery person).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired, of course, by 5.01, when David says that one of the things he loves about their relationship is when Patrick orders pizza for him.
> 
> I was gonna sit on this chapter a little longer, but then I started writing a whole separate new fic, so this is me trying to force myself back on track long enough to finish the last chapter of this one.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Go share some pizza with a loved one!


	4. Sweet Tooth

Patrick knows better than to say anything, but he notices the change over time.

As two people in a relationship should, they get more and more comfortable with each other as time goes on. For David, that includes his eating habits. There’s no more picking at his food when they eat together at the cafe, no knife-and-fork for foods that are generally eaten by hand. And while he doesn’t eat particularly fast, he does sometimes takes comically large bites of things, which Patrick finds oddly endearing.

Patrick can now even safely use food as an incentive when David is on the fence about going somewhere or doing something. There’s the amazing little bakery in Elm Valley near the convention center that convinces him to attend a business seminar; the confirmation of swanky, non-Cafe Tropical catering that gets him to agree to RSVP to Twyla’s next murder mystery party; and Patrick doesn't know it yet, but one day, the promise of a barbecue will get David into a baseball uniform.

With this relaxation in David’s tendencies comes the revelation that he has one hell of a sweet tooth. The answer to “Would you like to see a dessert menu?” is now always “absolutely”, even when they’re full and have to take their dessert to go. This fact makes gift-giving very easy for Patrick. He wishes he could have seen the look on David’s face when he received the four-month anniversary cookie (Stevie had assured him that David had been unable to fully maintain his annoyance when it was presented to him). He hadn’t thought twice about sending David a box of the best chocolates he could find in town as one of his many olive branches during their brief separation. And when he has to attend seminars alone, he always brings home the lavender shortbread David loves from the Elm Valley bakery.

It’s not a full and permanent 180 degree turn. David still prefers the full coverage of a sweater, even when it’s warm out, and has on occasion lamented the tailored button-downs that don’t quite fit him anymore due to weight he’s gained since moving to Schitt’s Creek. Patrick is always quick to tell him he looks good, to which David almost always responds with some variation on, “Yes, I know.” Patrick comes to learn that some days, the response is a defense mechanism David uses to backpedal when he feels he’s come off too insecure. Other days, David is feeling good and means it.

It all really does depend on the day. Some days, if Patrick rests his hand on David’s stomach while they’re lying together in bed, David will give that hand an affectionate squeeze before gently moving it somewhere else. Some days, he’ll get dressed in the bathroom after he’s showered when he stays over. It’s all fine with Patrick as long as David is comfortable, though he does selfishly enjoy the mornings when David returns to his room after showering, wearing just a towel wrapped low around his hips.

On one such morning, Patrick had already gone for a run, showered, and was getting dressed when David barged into his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Patrick had asked.

“So Ray just saw me,” David had said, crossing his arms awkwardly over his chest.

Patrick made a show of looking David up and down before replying, “Lucky Ray.”

It had had the desired effect. David became flustered, but tried to hide it behind indignation.

“I don’t think I’m his type,” David had said, taking in the sight of Patrick as well, his shirt on but left enticingly unbuttoned, with no t-shirt underneath.

Patrick had grinned. “Lucky me.”

After a second’s hesitation, David had sauntered up to Patrick, whose hands immediately went to David’s waist, sliding up his bare lower back. David had rested one hand on Patrick’s shoulder, the other sliding down Patrick’s chest.

“It’s too bad we’ve already showered,” David had said. “We could both have gotten very lucky.”

Patrick had leaned in even closer. “Well, if _someone_ could wake up earlier, I’d happily trade in my morning run for a far more interesting workout _with_ that someone.”

David had glared but then kissed him once, sweetly, before turning away and very deliberately taking his towel off _before_ bending over to retrieve a pair of underwear from his overnight bag.

(Maybe a week later, when a well-meaning Ray had burst into Patrick’s room multiple times and had mentioned David’s self-deprecating comments _and_ how he looked, Patrick began to panic. Luckily, there was the promise of pancakes, and Patrick knew that David knew Ray always splurged on the really good maple syrup, so as long as Ray could follow through with breakfast they’d probably be okay. It was still time to look for his own place, though.)

When Patrick gets his own apartment, with his own kitchen, he can’t wait to bake in it. He’d cooked and baked a handful of times at Ray’s, and he and David had occasionally shared meals with Ray (usually at Ray’s insistence) but Patrick was always wary of making too much of a mess and taking up too much space in the shared kitchen. Now, he has free rein.

And after the miscommunication about the apartment, Patrick is still feeling the need to make it up to David. So once the place is presentable enough to have him over, Patrick plans a date night for them.

They go out to dinner, to a falafel place that doesn’t serve dessert. When they’re leaving, David suggests stopping for ice cream.

“I actually have ice cream at home. Thought it would go well with some…” Patrick drops his voice seductively “...homemade brownies.”

David links arms with Patrick and grins. “Look at you. You have your own place for a minute and suddenly you’re Martha Stewart.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. I’m actually hoping that the brownies will distract you from the fact that I haven’t really decorated the place yet.”

“Do you at least have a cute little apron to wear?”

“I do. And it’s from our store, so it’s pre-approved by you.”

David squeezes his arm. “You think of everything.”

When they get back to the apartment, Patrick sits David down on the couch and pours him a glass of wine.

“I feel like I should be offering to help,” David says, taking the glass. “I just don't do so well in the kitchen. But, um, if any ingredients need to be folded into others, I actually do know how to do that, so…”

Patrick braces a hand on the back of the sofa and leans down to give David a soft kiss.

“That's very generous of you, but I can handle it. Just hang out, make yourself at home.”

They both smile at the word “home”. It may be Patrick's place, but it wouldn't be home if it wasn't a little bit David's too.

David leans forward and places his glass on the coffee table before coaxing Patrick to lean down and kiss him once more. Before Patrick knows it, David has maneuvered him onto the couch to straddle his lap. Patrick sighs shakily when David pulls him against him firmly and begins kissing up his neck.

“David, the brownies.” Patrick’s voice is rough, unconvincing.

“Mhm,” David murmurs against his neck, nipping at him gently.

Patrick clears his throat and extracts himself, standing and readjusting his clothes. David pouts.

“Wasn't the whole point of you getting this place so we could...” he leans forward and plucks at Patrick's shirt, dropping his voice suggestively “...have some privacy?”

“It's a big part of it,” Patrick says, hands on his hips, voice a little strained. “But the apartment isn't going anywhere. Brownies first, then we'll see where the night takes us.”

David picks his wine back up, leaning back and smirking up at Patrick. “Fine, whatever you say.”

David looks so enticing lounging on _his_ couch in _his_ apartment that Patrick still hesitates for a second before heading into the kitchen to tie on his gray chambray Rose Apothecary apron.

Less than 20 minutes later, the brownies are in the oven and Patrick is cleaning up. When all that's left is the bowl he mixed the batter in, he scoops some of the remaining batter up with his finger and puts it in his mouth. As he’s scooping up a second taste, David - who had been quietly sipping his wine and scrolling on his phone up to that point - comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist. Patrick smiles.

“Wanna help me clean the bowl?” He tilts the mixing bowl invitingly, but instead, David leans down and takes Patrick's finger into his mouth, sucking the batter off of it. He pulls off and looks Patrick in the eye while he licks his lips.

“Oh I'm sorry, was that yours?” David asks coyly. He then scoops some batter up out of the bowl with his finger and offers it to Patrick. When Patrick leans in, David pulls his finger away and puts it in his own mouth, smiling as he sucks it clean. Patrick drops the bowl, turns and kisses him soundly, chasing the taste of chocolate with his tongue.

When Patrick tries to pull David against him, David maintains space between their bodies. Patrick is confused for a moment, but then David’s hands are at the small of his back, untying his apron. He realizes David is probably trying to avoid getting flour on his black sweater and helps him remove the apron, tossing it in the general direction of the kitchen table.

Once the apron is gone, David closes all remaining gaps between them, pressing Patrick against the kitchen counter and slotting one of his legs between Patrick’s. They kiss long and deep, wrapped up in each other like that until Patrick has to pull away to catch his breath. He has little success - he’s hard and David won’t stop rocking into him just right and finding all the most sensitive spots on his neck and jaw to kiss in lieu of his mouth. Eventually, David pulls away and drops gracefully to his knees, undoing Patrick’s pants on the way down.

He gets Patrick’s pants and underwear down and takes his erection in his hand, then into his mouth. Patrick hisses, biting back a groan as his head tips back and his eyes fall shut. It takes him a moment to remember that he doesn’t actually need to keep quiet now. This is his place and no one is going to walk in on them or hear them from the next room. When David takes him deeper, Patrick grips the counter behind him and lets out a breathy moan that causes David’s rhythm to falter. The times when Patrick has been unable to contain his reactions, it’s really done a number on David. This was going to be fun.

Still, it’s difficult to turn the filter off completely at first. Patrick blushes when he hears his own voice go high and needy, but David’s muffled moans and his thumbs digging into his hips encourage him to get bolder, and pretty soon it just feels too damn good to worry about what he might sound like when uninhibited.

When he's right at the edge, the point where he’d normally tug gently at David's hair or give some other nonverbal warning, he somehow pulls it together enough to make the decision to tell instead of show.

“David, don’t stop, don't stop, I'm... I'm gonna come,” he stutters out.

David responds with a muffled but very audible moan and Patrick’s hips jerk. He slaps a hand down on the counter behind him and grips it to regain balance.

“ _Fuck_ , ahhh…” Patrick gasps as he comes. David works him through it, and when he's finished he stands, stumbling a little bit.

Patrick steadies him, then backs him up, turning him and pushing him hard into the counter. He kisses him firmly, but has to pull back to finish catching his breath. He can feel David's heart beating fast when he leans against his chest, resting his head against his shoulder, and then David's arms are wrapped around him, hands rubbing his back.

“God, I can't wait to do that in every room of this place,” Patrick says, lifting his head to smile at David.

David squints and tilts his head. Patrick looks at him questioningly

“It's just that, since this apartment is open-concept…” David gestures at the doorless path to the living room and bedroom. “We technically just did it in every room. So… go us.”

“There’s a door on the bathroom now. That's gotta count as a second room, at least.”

David wrinkles his nose. “There's just not a lot of room in your little water closet, so…”

Patrick sighs dramatically. “If only one of us had ‘creative use of space’ listed as a special skill on their resume.”

David glares at him for a long moment, then rolls his eyes. “Fine, I'll think of something.”

They both smile and Patrick leans up to kiss him. When tries to deepen the kiss, David pulls back and looks over toward the oven.

“Um, how much longer ‘til the brownies are done?”

Patrick looks over at the oven and squints at the timer. “Just a couple more minutes. You really know how to kill time.”

He leans back in but David leans away.

“I just, um… if we keep going I'm gonna need more than a couple of minutes.”

“Yeah, okay,” Patrick says, refastening his jeans. “Why don’t you head to the bedroom, I’ll take the brownies out when they’re done, and then I’ll come join you.”

David presses his lips together, something clearly unsatisfying about that plan.

“No?” Patrick asks.

“Okay, you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

Patrick scoffs. “I would nev--”

He’s cut off by the serious look on David’s face. He nods. “Okay, I promise.”

David sighs. “Now that I’m smelling the brownies, I’m having very visceral memories of being a kid, and Adelina baking for me and Alexis when our parents were away,” he explains. “Everything she made was incredible. It’s stupid, but I think those were some of my happiest childhood memories. Alexis and I never fought when Adelina baked. Though, that may have been because we were too busy stuffing our faces.”

Patrick smiles fondly. “That sounds really nice.”

“It was. Until my parents figured out just how much sugar we were being fed. Then Adelina was asked to cut back on the treats. Mom was worried I’d be too pudgy for the Gap Kids campaign.”

“Aw, David. Pudgy or not, I’m sure you would have been the cutest kid up for the gig.”

“Obviously,” David says with a smirk. “But anyway, now I’m just dying to have a homemade brownie while it’s still warm from the oven, like back when I was a kid, so if we could just press pause on this until after dessert…”

“Of course,” Patrick says, stepping away from David. “And I will try very hard not to take it personally that you’re choosing brownies over me.”

He’s clearly joking, and David can’t fully fight a smile, even as he raises his voice. “Okay, first of all, you did the same thing to me earlier when you were going to make the brownies. And second, I’m choosing brownies made by you, over sex with you. Which, okay, doesn’t sound great when I’m saying it out loud, but my point is that both choices involve me showing my appreciation for you, so either way, you come out on top.”

“I was actually kind of hoping you’d be the one to ‘come out on top’ tonight.”

David takes a deep breath. “ _Wow_ , you are making this difficult.”

The timer beeps. Patrick turns it off and puts on a pair of oven mitts. “Well, why don’t you make yourself useful and get the ice cream out of the freezer. Maybe you can hold it in your lap until things feel less… difficult.”

“Ooh, he’s a baker _and_ a comedian,” David teases, even as he goes to retrieve the ice cream.

They each start with a brownie straight out of the pan. It’s possible that David has never looked more content than after his first bite and it makes Patrick feel all warm and fuzzy. For round two, they make brownie sundaes. Along with the vanilla ice cream, Patrick bought whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles. David uses both in excess.

They settle back on the couch with their bowls, Patrick sitting up normally while David lounges against one of the armrests, both of his legs in Patrick’s lap. The whipped cream can is on the coffee table, so David can reapply without having to get up.

After a little while, during which time the only sounds in the room are spoons clinking against bowls and the occasional hiss of the whipped cream can, Patrick shifts, turning a little more toward David.

“I want to ask you a question,” Patrick says. “And I want to preface this question by saying it’s nothing bad, it’s purely out of curiosity, and I have no stake in and will not judge whatever your answer is.”

David furrows his brow, spoon held in his mouth for a moment before removing it to reply, “That’s a lot of worrisome prefacing, but go ahead, I guess.”

“Have you ever… incorporated food into…” Patrick searches for the right words and lands on “...bedroom activities?”

David grins. “ _Bedroom activities_?”

“You know what I’m saying.”

David nods and takes another bite of his sundae before answering. “Are you asking if I’ve done it or if I’ve enjoyed it?”

“Both?”

“There have been… situations? Always the other person's idea. But sex is already unavoidably messy, and I just don't see what the point of adding to that is.”

Patrick nods. “Practical. I get that.”

“Besides,” David says after another bite. “I don’t think you should need incentive to put your mouth on your partner. I certainly don't with you.”

“Well that’s…” Patrick chuckles. “That’s good to know. But I think the idea with something like that is that it’s a fun supplement, not… corrective.”

On his next bite, David pulls the spoon from his lips slowly, eyeing Patrick. “I thought you had no stake in my answer.”

“I don’t.”

“Are you sure? Because it sounds like you…”

“Nope, just curious.”

“Okay. Because you know if you want to try something we can talk--”

“Uh-huh, alright, we’re just gonna...”

Patrick cuts him off and sets his bowl down on the coffee table, then takes David’s and sets it down too.

“Oh, no, I wasn’t done with that,” David says, but he’s smiling and then Patrick is leaning over and kissing him. David slides his hands up under Patrick’s light blue sweater and white t-shirt, causing Patrick to gasp out a laugh and how cold David’s fingers are from holding his ice cream bowl.

They’re warm soon enough, though, and then Patrick’s sweater and shirt are off and tossed away somewhere. He tries to climb on top of David but David pushes back, guiding Patrick to lay back against the opposite arm rest. He’s fine with the switch and reaches for David, who straddles him and leans down to continue kissing him.

After a moment, David sits up and takes his sweater off. Without thinking, Patrick runs a hand down David’s bare stomach, a move that has a much higher rate of positive reaction these days. This time, David bites his lip and turns away, and Patrick thinks for a moment that he’s made him uncomfortable.

But then he realizes that David had turned to reach over and retrieve the whipped cream can from the table.

“David…?” Patrick says warily.

“So the thing about being in a super healthy relationship for the first time ever,” David says, toying with the can, “is that I’m seeing all sorts of things in a new light. So I’m thinking maybe I should revisit some things that I’ve written off in the past. If you were okay with that.”

Patrick pauses for a moment and then, instead of responding, he stretches out invitingly under David, putting one hand behind his head and leaving the other resting on David’s thigh. He smiles up and David shyly and David smiles back, lips pressed together. He shakes the can, eyes roaming over Patrick in a way that makes him blush. Finally, he sprays as small of a swirl as he can manage just above the waistband of Patrick's pants. Patrick bites back an embarrassed laugh as David drops the can, scooting further back on the small couch in order to dip his head and lick the whipped cream up.

When he does, Patrick lets out a breathy giggle. It feels very silly, but then the whipped cream is out of the way and David’s tongue traces his skin more firmly, causing his hips to twitch up.

David plants a final kiss on the spot on Patrick’s stomach, then sits up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, shaking his head.

“Yeah no, that was very awkward,” David says. “Oh well, can't say we didn't try.”

“That's it?” Patrick asks. “Seems a little unfair.”

“Again,” David says pointedly, “I thought you had no stake in this.”

“I’m just interested in all things being equal between us,” Patrick says. David catches the mischievous look in Patrick’s eye quick enough to lean over and snatch away the whipped cream can, just as Patrick’s hand shoots out to try and grab it. Patrick falls back against the armrest in defeat, still smiling up at David.

David looks at the can in his hand, and then it’s his turn to look mischievously at Patrick. Patrick tilts his head questioningly, and then his eyes widen in surprise as David shakes the can once more, leans back a little with his eyes squeezed shut and nose wrinkled, and sprays a small but messy dollop of whipped cream on his own chest, below his collar bone. He opens his eyes, but can’t look directly at Patrick below him.

“Oh no,” David says, his voice forced, the cadence of it similar to when he had introduced his mother during their Asbestos Fest performance. “I’ve made such a mess. How will I ever clean it up?”

Patrick thinks of that very silly performance that David agreed to do with (and for) his mother. He thinks about David dancing to Tina Turner for him, where anyone could have walked by the store and seen him. He thinks about what a hard time he and Stevie had given him for his inability to compromise. He wouldn’t say it wasn’t warranted, but David has a way of coming through for the people he cares about when it counts, even if it’s at the expense of his comfort or the image he prefers to put forward. He’s so set in his ways, yet so full of surprises. And Patrick feels so goddamn lucky to be trusted with these surprises, these gestures, these habits and traits that so few people get to see.

He’s been stunned into silence too long. David grimaces and flaps his hands at him. “It’s sliding down, I feel it sliding, Patrick can you please…!”

Patrick sits up and they both readjust their positions so Patrick can get his mouth where it needs to be. It’s messy and awkward, but they both smile as Patrick licks the whipped cream off of David the best he can with his tongue. When he’s mostly clean, he continues to lick and kiss up David’s chest and neck. With his hands on Patrick's upper arms, David gently separates them.

“So what's the verdi- oh hm,” David says, biting down a laugh when he sees Patrick's face. He has a little whipped cream on the tip of his nose, which David delicately rubs off with a finger. Patrick blushes.

“Honestly, can’t take you anywhere,” David teases.

Patrick looks up at him with a heated gaze. “You can take me right here.”

With a hand on the back of David's head, Patrick pulls him in for a kiss. They reposition once more so David can lay on top of Patrick between his legs as they continue kissing. Patrick sinks back, wrapping his legs around David to better convey what he wants him to do to him. Before they can get too lost in it, David pulls back.

“So does that mean this is gonna be a thing now?” he asks.

“Oh yeah,” Patrick says in his faux-serious voice. “I'm gonna need it every time.”

“Mhm. And just to clarify, is it just whipped cream, or does this food fetish extend to other fare?”

“Well, have you ever seen those places that serve sushi on a naked model?”

David suddenly gets a distant, reminiscent look on his face. “I um… I actually briefly dated a woman who did that as a side-gig,” he says.

“...oh.” Patrick hopes he hasn’t unlocked some sort of painful memory, but David quickly comes back to the present, looking down at Patrick.

“Don’t get me wrong, that would be a _great_ look for you,” David says. “But I’d just be worried you were cold the whole time. Plus there’s the fish smell, and god forbid you misplace the wasabi…”

“David.” Patrick takes David’s face in his hands. “Has this bit run its course?”

David nods between Patrick’s hands. “Mhm, yeah, I think so.”

“Okay, then we can just…”

“Uh-huh, yep…”

David leans down and kisses him once more before standing and pulling a disappointed Patrick to his feet.

“What…?”

David tugs him toward the bed.

“I didn't say anything before because I'm trying to respect your furnishing choices, but your couch is very small and will not accommodate most of our… bedroom activities.”

He steers Patrick right up to the bed, but Patrick remains standing.

“So are you admitting that this is a bedroom?” Patrick asks. “As in a separate room?”

“If I say yes, will you take your pants off?”

Patrick smiles and kisses him once. “Tell me where you wanna fuck me.”

David closes his eyes, nods, and whispers, “In your bed nook.”

“Unbelievable,” Patrick says with an incredulous smile.

“It’s fine, I don’t need you to take your pants off,” David says, his hands going to the fly of Patrick’s jeans. “I can do that for you.”

 

* * *

 

Later, David dozes in bed, too comfortable and satiated to put a stitch of clothing back on. He hears Patrick exit the bathroom but doesn’t peek an eye open until he feels Patrick climb back onto the bed. When he sees that Patrick has returned with the whipped cream can, he jolts more fully awake.

“I thought we were done with that,” David says warily.

“Don’t you ever just crave sugar after bedroom activities?” Patrick asks, shaking the can.

“Is it too late to put the kibosh on the term ‘bedroom activities’?”

“Probably.” With that, Patrick sprays some whipped cream directly into his own mouth. David grimaces.

“I wanted to bring the pan of brownies back with me, but I figured you would have objected,” Patrick says once his mouth isn’t full.

“Oh I object to this too,” David insists.

“Not even a little?” Patrick holds out the can and David just eyes it like it just insulted him. Patrick scoots closer to David. “Do you trust me?”

“In general or right now?”

“Are the answers different?”

David thinks for a moment. “I guess not.”

Patrick holds the nozzle up to David’s mouth tentatively. After a moment, he rolls his eyes and opens his mouth so that Patrick can dispense some of the confection into it. Despite his best efforts, he overdoes it and David has to pull away and catch some of it with his hand.

Patrick waits as David swallows, pauses for a moment, and then holds his hand out. Patrick grins and gives him the can so that David can eat more whipped cream directly from it.

When they’ve finally put away the sweets for the night and turned out the lights, Patrick snuggles in and rests a hand on David’s stomach.

David lets him leave it there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started out just kind of sweet and ended up a little saucy. I don't know if you can tell by the fact that the word count on this last chapter is more than the first three combined, but this one kinda got away from me and just kept on going. It's a lot more than I initially planned for this, but I'm still pretty happy with it (and I hope you are too). I also hope you can forgive me for the fade-to-black on the would-be sex scene at the end. I was really at the point where things needed to wrap up, lol.
> 
> Thanks for reading! The love that's been left on this story in particular means a lot to me. :)


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